Always With Me
by Lyn Harkeran
Summary: AU GoldenSwan: What if Rumpelstiltskin was Emma's Fairy-Godfather and had visited her through her dreams? And what if Henry had actually died when he ate the poisoned apple turnover? Emma turns to the only person she's ever trusted and rises to her destiny to lift Regina's curse and become the hero Henry always wanted her to be. Rated M for later chapters.
1. Part 1

**The Better Part of Me**

* * *

_Emma Swan couldn't remember a time when the strange man hadn't filled her dreams. Her first memories as a child consisted of his voice and large golden eyes observing her as she laid at night in her crib. He had always been there, as long as her memory served her. For every major moment of her life, he had talked her through it. And then other times he had been the quiet listener who merely comforted her._

_Whatever the case, he was there._

_He had always been there . . ._

* * *

Emma currently sat at a booth in Granny's Diner, a cup of Cinnamon Hot Chocolate pressed against her palms and a blank expression covering her face. The woman's world seemed to be falling to pieces while she just sat by and watched, helplessly. But despite all of her best efforts, she had been unable to fix her mistakes. If anything they were getting worse by the second.

How had everything gotten out of hand? How had her life come to this point? Why had this happened to her?

The woman felt numb as she took yet another sip from her mug and tried to clear the cobwebs of her mind. In fact she was so lost in thought, that she didn't notice as someone took the seat opposite her and silently watched her as she tried to drink away her sorrows.

"I'm so sorry."

Emma's head snapped up as the words registered. Her large green eyes instantaneously met with two dark brown ones.

"What?" Even to her own ears, Emma sounded monotone and lifeless.

The man who sat directly in front of her gently took her smaller hands in his own and held them reverently. Then in the most sincere tone of voice Emma had ever heard escape his lips, Mr. Gold repeated, "I'm sorry, Emma."

The woman who had been fighting the urge to cry for so long felt her eyes prickle with tears.

"It's all my fault." Emma whispered, sniffing as she fought to keep her composure. "If I had only listened to him . . ."

Gold shushed her gently, and Emma was surprised by the fact that he still hadn't let go of her hand.

"This wasn't your fault." He said firmly. "Henry wouldn't want you to punish yourself. Not like this." Gold gestured his free hand to her entire body to prove his point.

Emma looked down at herself for the first time in what seemed like days; she was truly a wreck. Her long golden hair was matted and sticking up in random places, not to mention how pale she was. And her articles of clothing didn't even come close to matching. Emma's grief was there for all to see, even if she hadn't wanted it that way. Her sorrow showed in every breath she took.

Gold rubbed his thumb over her knuckles in a soothing pattern and messaged her wrist with well-worn fingers. Emma eyed him suspiciously. "What's the catch?"

Gold genuinely confused, "Pardon?"

"Why are you being nice to me?" She clarified.

The man studied her for several moments, choosing his next words with care. "Let's just say, I'm invested in your future, Miss Swan, and leave it at that."

Emma shrugged off the comment and took another sip of her hot chocolate. She had known that she couldn't trust Mr. Gold to give her a straight answer. That would be too much trouble.

The two sat in silence for a couple of minutes before Gold asked the question Emma had been dreading.

"When's the funeral?"

"That's not up to me to decide." Emma was able to spit out. "Regina told me in no uncertain terms that she would be in charge of the . . . arrangements." As Emma choked on the word _**arrangements**_, Gold knew better than to press the topic. It was obviously a touchy subject for her.

"Come on," he said, standing up from his side of the booth. Emma looked up at him, puzzled.

"I'll take you home," he finished quietly.

Emma nodded and slowly got up as well. As she took her first steps forward her legs wobbled and she looked as if she was going to fall. Gold in one swift movement brought his arm around her waist, and pulled her back up.

The woman nodded to him in thanks, and was grateful when he didn't let go of her.

Together, Emma and Gold walked out of Granny's into the chilly evening air. Emma tucked herself into the man's side, and Gold held her there. As he placed his arm around her shoulder, she didn't move to shrug him off.

* * *

Emma tossed and turned in her bed, begging sleep to claim her. She needed sleep . . . if only to forget for a little while.

As the numbers on her digital clock changed from PM to AM, Emma cried and cuddled an object to her chest, wishing that she could turn back the hands of time.

Emma held the book with frail fingers, stroking the cover time and time again.

It wasn't just any book. It was Henry's book.

As Emma stroked the worn leather cover, she slowly began to slip off, and soon she was asleep.

* * *

The world around her was dark, but Emma didn't care, as long as _**he **_was there. If she had known his name she would have called out to him, but alas she did not. So she had no choice but to wait.

Emma stood in the center of the abyss for what seemed like years, until she felt a familiar presence approach her from behind.

The woman turned around and instantly flung herself at the shadowy figure. A sob wracked from her body with such a force that she thought she would collapse into herself.

Emma clung to the man who had always been there for her, as she succumbed to her despair.

The man held her close but never said a word as the woman broke down.

"Henry!" Emma screamed over and over again, as if saying his name would bring him back from the dead. "Henry!"

For the first time since Henry had died, Emma let go of herself completely. Here with her protector, she didn't have to hide her emotions. She didn't have to pretend anymore.

"I should have believed him," Emma sobbed. "If he hadn't felt like he had something to prove, he'd never have eaten that apple turnover!"

The man didn't object, but he didn't agree either. He just held her.

"It's all my fault . . . It's all my fault."

After what seemed like forever, Emma finally had no more tears to shed, and she slumped against the man, seeking love and solace from his thin frame.

After a moment, he spoke for the first time since he had arrived.

"He loved you, you know."

Emma looked up at him with red bloodshot eyes. "I loved him," she admitted. "More than I ever thought was possible . . . Not that it matters anymore."

The man grew dangerously stiff and quickly turned her head so that they were looking into one another's eyes. Emma cringed at the emotion she saw in those strange golden, gray eyes, but she didn't break the contact.

"Of course it matters!" He exclaimed forcefully. "Love is the one absolute in a world of darkness. Love is the most powerful magic of all!"

Emma scoffed as she rubbed her eyes. "Love isn't magic . . . It's a curse."

The man looked sad as he brushed the hair from her face with his long fingers. "You know something's wrong with the world, when people start to push away love; especially, when those who push it away have the most love to give."

Emma gave a small cry from the back of her throat and closed her weary eyes. "I've nothing to give." She whispered solemnly. "I never have."

The man held her hand in his own, gently rubbing her knuckles with this thumbs in a thoughtful, intricate pattern. "That's not true, dearie. You've already done more that you know."

Emma opened her eyes to look at the strange man once more. And she felt a small kindle of hope spark, somewhere deep within her. Like a flame within her belly.

"Really," she asked him.

The man smiled, showing off his abnormally colored teeth, "Most certainly."

As Emma studied him, she knew he was telling the truth. "Thank you."

The man kissed her forehead and a low giggle escape him.

Emma grinned for the first time in two days, at the familiar sound. She had heard him do it for almost 27 years now, and it always comforted her.

"Just promise me one thing, dearie."

"Yeah?"

"Swear to me that you'll be strong in the days to come. And that you won't let anyone lead you away from what's important."

Emma nodded, "Sure."

The strange man smiled again, a proud sort of grin. "That's my Swan Princess."

* * *

_**Author's Note: **_

_**This story has been brewing in my mind since the Season Finale, so I finally started writing it. I'm planing four to five chapters, but the story might be bigger in the long run, and I might have more chapters.  
**_

_**This is a story of 'what-if's' and healing. It's focused mainly on Emma and my take on how she would have dealt with Henry's death. (If he really had died, that is.)  
**_

_**Reviews are always welcome, and I would like to know if the writing was good. I felt like it was a little sloppy in places. What do you think?  
**_

_**~Lyn Harkeran  
**_


	2. Part 2

**A Kindred Soul**

* * *

It was in the early hours of the morning and warm-tinted sunlight shone on the small town of Storybrooke, making it seem happy and quaint, as a new day began.

But today was a sad day, because today Storybrooke mourned one of its own.

Most of the shops were closed for the morning, and though it was a school day, the building remained empty. It was almost 10 o'clock and the town was still.

It was a day where the entire town was sullen. It was the day of a funeral: Henry's Mills funeral.

* * *

Emma Swan stood at the edge of the woods that surrounded the town's church, waiting for the service to end. Though she could have entered the building at any time, the woman knew that she wasn't welcome. Between Regina and her own guilt, Emma knew that walking into Henry's funeral service would be emotional suicide. So she had staked out the chapel, waiting for a private chance to say goodbye.

The woman made her mind blank, focusing on her breathing and the numbness that had overcome her, making sure that her true feelings didn't surface. Not yet. She had to be alone with the kid before she could let herself go. So she waited patiently in the cover of trees.

It seemed an eternity before the large doors opened, but the sheriff instantly forgot about the time as she observed the procession that came from within the church.

Emma watched stoically as the pallbearers carried out the small ebony casket towards the open grave-site, where it was meant to be laid; her blue eyes noting that it was Archie Hopper and David Nolan that carried her son to his rest.

Once the casket was in place and the congregation had surrounded the spot, the priest read several passages from the Bible before he offered up a prayer to the sky and thus ended the service.

Slowly the citizens of Storybrooke moved forward to pay their respect to the dead child and the mayor before one by one they left altogether.

But Emma still waited.

After thirty more minutes, Regina finally left with Sidney Glass, as he tried to offer her words of comfort.

If it had been a regular day Emma would have scoffed at the reporters antics, but it wasn't an average day. And as she watched the two drive away she couldn't help but feel jealous. A heart clenching resentment filled her as the unforgiving truth once more was shoved in her face. She _should _have had someone standing by her side, consoling her and holding her as she cried. But she didn't. She was alone as she always had been.

Emma slowly walked from the shelter of the trees, across the gravel parking lot and past the church itself before she entered the cemetery with wary feet and found her way to the spot where the casket now rested in the ground.

As soon as she stood before the ebony box it was as if someone had ripped her heart out, and Emma fell to her knees from the sheer power of it. As she landed hard on her already sore legs she let her emotions overwhelm her as she freely cried by Henry's side.

"You were right," she sobbed quietly. "I _was_ scared . . . Too scared to have been the mother you needed in your life. . . Too scared to be the hero you wanted me to be . . ."

Emma half expected to hear the kids' voice telling her that she was wrong and that she was the savior weither she believed it or not. But the loving reprimand didn't come.

Emma would never hear Henry's fairytale theories again, nor see him smiling at her over a cup of cinnamon coco at Granny's.

Henry was gone, and he wasn't coming back.

Emma reached down and stroked the top of the casket with her right hand, immediately jerking away from the cold unfeeling wood beneath her fingers. It was all wrong. Henry was soft and warm . . . Henry wasn't supposed to be dead. He was supposed to live a long and fruitful life and get married and have children. He was supposed to have his best chance! . . . Not this. . .

The turnover was meant for her. Emma knew this and wished with all her heart that she had been to one to eat it, saving her child from such a horrible fate. But she hadn't, and now she had to live with the consequences.

Once more she was reminded that she was poisonous; ruining everything she touched. She was cursed.

But instead of accepting it as she always had, Emma fought against her fate with all the willpower she possessed, silently begging for the life that she could have had. A life with a mother and father, where she was loved unconditionally and perhaps had the opportunity to have been a good parent herself.

"_I never should have come to Storybrooke. I never should have gotten involved in his life. . . If I had listened to my instincts and stayed away, he would still be alive . . . He would still have the chance for happiness that I never did." _

Emma sorrowfully looked down at the object she was holding onto with her left hand, and knew that it was time to part with it. For she couldn't stand to look at it. . . Not without Henry.

She gently laid the leather bound book down on top of the casket and read the words _**'Once Upon a Time'**_ for the last time before she leaned down to kiss the wood in parting, with the son she had almost had.

"I love you, Henry."

Then Emma stood and turned her back on the child she had come to love and tried to walk away. But after two steps she fell back to the ground, clenched in a fetal position as she sobbed aloud as the pain grew worse.

And then, someone was pulling her up from the ground and holding her, murmuring comforting words in her ear and kissing her forehead as she cried.

Emma clung to the figure and sobbed harder not realizing who it was, but she felt relieved to have someone with her, in her time of need.

"Thank you," she choked out between sobs. "Thank you."

"Hush, dearie," Gold crooned, as he moved her hair from her face with his forefinger. "I've got you."

Emma recognized the voice but she couldn't bring herself to pull away, so she hugged him tighter than before and continued to cry. And to her relief Gold held her just as tight as he rested his cheek against her hair.

"My dear, Emma," he said as he rocked them back and forth. "My brave little Emma . . . it'll be alright, sweetheart. I promise."

Emma felt something inside her flare as he used the terms of endearment. But instead of snapping at him or feeling uncomfortable, she leaned up and nuzzled his cheek with her own and placed her hand on his suit where his heart beat in a soft, calming rhythm.

And as she felt his heartbeat, Emma looked up into his eyes and instantly knew that he was telling the truth. . . Somehow, he thought that he could make it right. . .

* * *

_**Author's Note: **_

_**I decided to rewrite this story and actually have Henry dead. ;P I also decided to make this a Gold/Emma romance or GoldenSwan fic. If this bothers you I apologize, but I must follow the path my plot bunnies lay out for me! **_

_**Please review if you read! Any suggestions or comments are welcome! I would love some imput on the writing. Is Emma in character? I feel like she is a little off. . . :/ Please let me know!**_

**_~Lyn Harkeran _**


	3. Part 3

**Dreams of Imps and Morbid Things**

* * *

Mr. Gold entered into his regular solitude with a grateful sigh, thankful that he was once more alone, if only for the moment.

He had waited in the shadows after the funeral, knowing that the Sheriff would make an appearance sooner or later. And she hadn't disappointed. She had shown up in her red leather jacket and jeans, looking completely passive as she had approached Henry's coffin. So it had come as a bit of a shock, when Emma _did_ show emotion, and the amount she had displayed had been startling.

Before that afternoon, Emma Swan had never shown anything other sarcasm and contempt to him. But when she had mourned for her dead child, the woman had clung to him like a lover and wept for hours.

_Perhaps she is beginning to see the truth. . ._ The man couldn't help but smile at the thought. It was about time the Princess fulfilled her destiny. It had been 28 years after-all. Or perhaps, she had merely taken a chance, and for once dropped her invincible facade.

Whatever the case, Gold was pleased. It seemed that his little God-Daughter was finally beginning to grow up. If Emma continued down her current path, he might even be able to truly introduce himself to her. Not that he didn't enjoy visiting her through meditation and dreams, as the Dark One. But he grew weary of Regina's schemes and the petty existence that he was bound to. It was time to shed his Storybrooke persona. It was time for a change.

After letting her cry herself out, Gold had taken the grief stricken Emma back to Mary Margaret's, where he had left her, piled underneath a mountain of blankets and her 'mother' pampering her to death. He hadn't said a word of farewell to Emma, nor her anxious roommate. He had waited until Mary Margaret had her back turned, and then had snuck away.

Gold's drive home had been a quiet one, where he had let his mind wander, contemplating his next move. And as he pulled into his driveway and parked, the man had made up his mind. That night when he connected his mind with Emma's, he would push her in the right direction. He knew that she was still grieving for Henry, but he had to get the ball rolling. Regina was getting reckless, which would mean she would be easier to defeat. They had to act, and soon.

Mr. Gold limped up the porch steps of his elegant abode and smiled when he was safely indoors. Though he loved his Pawnshop, there was truly no place like home.

The man walked to his bedroom, loosening his tie with one hand as he went. He hadn't had anything to eat that evening, but Gold was too tired and preoccupied with his thoughts to even attempt a piece of toast. So Gold went through all of his nightly rituals and turned off his lamp as he climbed into bed.

The older man closed his eyes slowly, relishing the feeling and focused his mind. He let his weariness and emotion fill him up, and willed himself to find Emma.

Gold had figured out years prior when Emma had been a child, constantly being passed from one home to another, that in order for him to connect his mind with hers through sleep or meditation, he had to do so when she herself was asleep. Otherwise the mental coupling wouldn't work and he would end up with a hellish migraine the next morning.

So Gold smiled when he found her, and entered without a hitch.

Emma's mind was a complex place, a labyrinth of emotion and memories that she had locked behind countless barriers. Whenever he made the connect, Gold would always try to peek inside these barriers, but he had only succeeded once.

She had been eighteen and in jail, when he had finally been able to read her mind. And because of his prior insight, Gold had been able to adopt Henry and bring him to Regina. Thus sealing the fact that one day, Emma Swan would come to Storybrooke and fulfill her destiny.  
Emma didn't know of Gold's involvement, and he was sure that when she did find out, her anger would make Regina's tantrums look like an anthem of adoration. But it was inevitable that the woman would one day put two and two together. So until that dreadful day, he would keep his involvement unknown and hold back.

As Gold finished joining their minds, he sighed in exhaustion and instantly fell asleep.

* * *

Emma knew Mary Margaret was still gushing over her, but she had long since tuned her out. She was tired of being asked if she was alright and have her roommate hover over her. All she wanted was to be left alone. And since she had cried herself out earlier, the woman's sorrow was slowly beginning to abate, bit by bit. Though she was still depressed over the loss of Henry, Emma was also becoming angry.

"Are you sure you're alright," Mary Margaret asked for the umpteenth time, looking down at Emma with a motherly sort of concern, that made the sheriff want to hurl. Though Mary Margaret meant well, her methods were usually cumbersome.

"I"m fine," Emma said sternly turning over in her bed with a groan. "I just need to sleep it off . . ."

"Of course," Mary Margaret offered a bit too cheerfully. "If you need anything, you know where to find me." The she awkwardly exited the room, leaving Emma alone in the darkness.

The woman laid in the darkness for several minutes, taking calming breaths. And with a sad little sigh, Emma closed her eyes and promptly fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

Rumpelstiltskin sat within a graveyard, looking around with curious eyes. His little Emma was in a morbid state of mind indeed, if her dreams happened in such a place as this. It was the perfect setting for a horror film, with thunder and lightning overhead and a abrupt pelting of rain that had soon soaked the Dark One, making water drip from his hair and down his shoulders.

The imp ignored the water, as he sat atop one of the large marble stones and waited patiently, knowing that it was only a matter of time before the hostess of the dreamscape appeared. And appear she did, several minutes later, sprinting as fast as her legs would allow, and sobbing in sheer terror.

_She's being followed by some monster no doubt,_ Rumpelstiltskin thought as he made the decision to interfere.

"This way, dearie!" He yelled out, causing Emma's head to snap towards him. After a moment, recognition covered her pale face and she changed her course, reaching him in a mere handful of seconds.

"My, my, I never knew you could run so fast!" The Dark One teased with a giggle. "One would think the devil himself had come after you!"

Emma fought to catch her breath and looked up at the imp with teary eyes. "Pl-Please make it stop."

"Make what stop?"

Emma pointed back the way she had come, with a shaky finger. "It keeps following me, wherever I go! No matter how far I run, it's always there!"

"What's there, Princess?" Rumpelstiltskin asked gently.

Emma sobbed as she sunk to her knees in front of him. "The grave. . . It's everywhere!"

Rumpelstiltskin felt his stomach clench as he realized that she was talking about Henry's grave. And then, looking behind the woman, he spotted it. There, clear as day, was the freshly dug hole with a stone engraved with the boy's name. Rumpelstiltskin lowered himself onto his knees before Emma and placed a soft kiss on the top of her head. "There's no need for fear, Emma. If it bothers you, we can leave."

"How," Emma spat out as she looked up, some of her old fire sparkling in her eyes. " I've been trying to leave since I got here! There is no way out!"

Rumpelstiltskin giggled merrily, amused as Emma glared at him. "Oh dear, the wittle Princess has forgotten where we are. And after all these years, all my prompting and lessons, and I still have to help you."

With a snap of his fingers, Rumpelstiltskin had completely changed the morbid scenery to that of a peaceful midnight glade with fresh cherry blossoms, falling down to cover the soft grass in a light pink blanket. Emma looked around in awe and the imp clucked his tongue, chiding her, though he was still amused by it.

"Whenever you are dreaming, where you are and what you're doing are yours to control," the imp reminded her. " You've always had the ability to stop dreams, but you never seem to accomplish it. . ."

"I try," Emma interjected angrily. "But it never works!"

"That's because you stifle your emotions, dearie." Rumpelstiltskin interjected. " If you didn't hold back, you'd be able to."

Emma didn't meet his steady gaze as she answered. Knowing that she wouldn't be able to hide her fear from her protector.

"I can't let my guard down," she said. "Henry is the perfect example why. My feelings for him made me forget to be cautious, and now he's dead."

Rumpelstiltskin studied her with unwavering golden eyes, merely listening. Before he reached out and held her cheek with the palm of his hand. " You've let your guard down with me."

Emma shook her head and snorted. "You're a figment of my imagination, that doesn't count!"

Rumpelstiltskin's eyebrow lifted, "A figment am I?"

"Yes," Emma said crossing her arms over her chest. "An over the top, giggly, leather clad figment, that my mind hasn't even given a name to."

Rumpelstiltskin eyes grew wide at her description of his and then without hesitation, the Dark One swept into a low bow. It seemed his plan would be easier than he had originally thought. She _had_ just asked him his name.

"Ruuuumpelstiltskin!"

Emma looked at him like he was crazy, and he had to suppress a chuckle.

"What?" Emma asked in a shocked whisper.

"My name, dearie" the imp stated with a smirk. "_Rumpelstiltskin._"

* * *

**Author's Note: **

**A lot of you asked how it would be possible for Rumpelstiltskin to be in his 'Dark One' state and be acquainted with Emma, while the curse was in play. In this story, Mr. Gold still has ****_some _****magic at his disposal, as does Regina. **

**I sought to explain that concept better in this chapter. Hopefully it wasn't too confusing. If you have any questions, please ask in a PM or review. I want you all to understand the story, afterall. ^^**

**~Lyn Harkeran**


	4. Part 4

**To Be Surprised. . .**

* * *

_"I can't let my guard down," Emma said. "Henry is the perfect example why! __My feelings for him made me forget to be cautious, and now he's dead!"_

_Rumpelstiltskin studied her with unwavering golden eyes, merely listening. Before he reached out and held her cheek with the palm of his hand. "You've let your guard down with me."_

_Emma shook her head and snorted. "You're a figment of my imagination, that doesn't count!"_

_Rumpelstiltskin's eyebrow lifted, "A figment am I?"_

_"Yes," Emma said crossing her arms over her chest. "An over the top, giggly, leather clad figment, that my mind hasn't even given a name to."_

_Rumpelstiltskin eyes grew wide at her description of his and then without hesitation, the Dark One swept into a low bow. It seemed his plan would be easier than he had originally thought. She had asked him his name._

_"Ruuuumpelstiltskin!"_

_Emma looked at him like he was crazy, and he had to suppress a chuckle._

_"What?" Emma asked in a shocked whisper._

_"My name, dearie" the imp stated with a smirk. "Rumpelstiltskin."_

* * *

Emma was silent for several whole minutes after Rumpelstiltskin stated his name, before she began to laugh. The imp watched her with an annoyed grimace, knowing without a doubt that his Swan Princess didn't believe him. And to his complete surprise, the thought irked him to no end, though he had known that she would be reluctant to take him at his word.

Why did Emma still refuse to acknowledge what was right before her eyes? The woman had claimed that seeing was believing, but by the sound of her shaky laughter, Emma had thrown even that philosophy out the window.

"What are you guffawing about, missy?" The imp asked, as his animalistic eyes watched her, like a predator would its prey; his gaze unwavering.

"You," Emma stated simply, continuing to snicker. "_And _me."

When Rumpelstiltskin gave her a confused look, she quickly elaborated though her voice was somewhat strained.

"If my subconscious self," here Emma gestured to the imp, "Is calling itself _'Rumpelstiltskin', _I _know _that I'm going crazy."

Rumpelstiltskin immediately frowned. So the Princess thought that he was a part of her subconscious? The imp almost laughed aloud at the thought. The woman was in hardcore denial if she was desperate enough to hold onto such an absurd notion as thinking herself to be 'crazy'.

What would Snow White and Charming think, the Dark One wondered gleefully, if they could see inside their daughters head at that exact moment. _"They'd die of shame," _he thought mentally rolling his eyes. _"Or worse, try to brainwash her with the Hero pep talks. . . Bravery, Love, and Goodness, Oh my!" _

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, my dear, but I am _not_ a creation of your loverly mind." Rumpelstiltskin said with a secretive smile in place on his grayish gold lips.

"You're not?" Emma lifted an eyebrow as way of a challenge. "Then why are you stuck in my head?"

Rumpelstiltskin smiled even larger than before, showing off his stained teeth in a most mischievous way.

"Oh, dearie, dearie, dear! I'm not stuck! I'm merely visiting!"

Emma viewed the leather clad imp with skepticism, and it was obvious that she was beginning to tire of the conversation.

"Visiting? You've been in my dreams since I was a kid. That's way more than _visiting_."

To the woman's surprise, Rumpelstiltskin's expression immediately grew soft at her words, as did his tone. And as he once more spoke, the man drew far closer in her personal space than would be deemed appropriate, without truly realizing that he had done so.

"You needed me more than I ever could have imagined. . . How could I leave you when you always begged me to stay?"

Emma bit her lower lip, fighting back a curse, for Rumpelstiltskin had hit his mark.

As a little girl, Emma had always hated to wake up, for she had known that when she did, her shadowy friend wouldn't be there to accompany her. And in the past, she had more than once, clung to his leather clad legs, sobbing in fright at the prospect of never seeing him again.

"You never left me, because you are _my _dream." Emma countered solemnly, forcing herself to don a mask of indifference and keep her body language to a minimum.

But as the imp reached out with his scaly finger to brush her cheek, Emma felt her attempts at holding up her walls begin to fall.

"I never left you, because you are _mine_." Rumpelstiltskin whispered in a soft and sensual tone, his fingers traveling down the woman's cheek to rest on her bottom lip. He gently stroked it, longingly, staring down at her mouth, like a moth drawn to a flame.

Emma stood stock still for several moments as she recovered from the shock of the imp's statement. And then the meaning of Rumpelstiltskin's actions and words clicked and her heart was snapped like a ringmaster's whip.

"I don't belong to anyone." Emma said, as she took a large step backward, moving away from his tempting touches and caresses. But the look Rumpelstiltskin gave her once she had moved, made Emma truly doubt her statement.

His gaze was completely primal, and it made the woman's stomach clench uncontrollably; heat beginning to pool inside her like a miniature lake. It was a look that Emma would not soon forget. Not that she wanted to, mind.

"Whatever you say, my dear." Rumpelstiltskin said, his voice somewhat hoarse as he continued to stare at her. The continued attention made the woman's spine tingle and her toes curl inside her shoes. But before Emma could thinking about what this change could mean, the imp continued to say something that ultimately caught her attention.

"I can prove it you know."

"Prove what?"

"That I'm not a figment of your somewhat resigned imagination."

Emma crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for the chance to finally put the topic to rest once and for all. Knowing that there was no possible way that he could in fact prove that he was 'Rumpelstiltskin.'

"How?"

Rumpelstiltskin grinned as he began to circle around the woman, knowing that she was putty in his hands. That he held the trump card.

"There's someone you know," the imp said with a small giggle. "Someone who can vouch for me and put your doubts to rest!"

"In the _real_ world?" Emma added skeptically, to which Rumpelstiltskin nodded impatiently.

"Yes, yes! A '_weal' _person who I am well acquainted with!"

"Give me a name."

"He has . . . _many _names," the imp teased with a small, playful growl. Which made Emma smile despite her frustration, as she followed his movements with her bright green eyes, in his continued circling around her.

"Well, I would only need to know one of them."

Rumpelstiltskin chuckled as he reached out and briefly tugged on one of her blonde locks.

"Awwww! My wittle Princess finally knows what she wants! Good!"

Emma ignored his baiting, and merely watched her childhood protector's wild hand flourishes with amusement. No matter how many times she witnessed his strangeness, the woman never grew tired of his antics or their night time meetings. He was the most reoccurring thing in Emma's life, and for that she was extremely grateful.

"Cut the crap," she said firmly, though she kept smiling. "Who is this person I know, who can vouch for you. . . '_Rumpelstiltskin'_?"

Rumpelstiltskin abruptly stopped his pacing as Emma said his name aloud for the first time. And though her tone was mocking, the imp was sure that he had never before heard such a lovely sound in all his life. And in that beautiful moment, Rumpelstiltskin vowed that he would one day have her screaming his name in a fit of passion as he made love to her.

The thought made parts of his body stir that he had thought were long dead. Perhaps a game of cat and mouse wasn't so overrated after all. . .

Rumpelstiltskin was silent for several moments before he looked straight into Emma's eyes and answered her question, by merely saying a name.

"Mr. Gold."

Whatever Emma Swan had been expecting, it certainly wasn't what the imp had said. The woman's mouth hung wide open, similar to that of a gutted fish, and she sputtered loudly.

"W-what!?"

"You heard me correctly the first time, dearie. Mr. Gold can confirm that I'm _not _just another concept of your creative imagination."

"Gold?"

"Yes," Rumpelstiltskin said earnestly. "Weren't you listening?"

Emma stared off into space, her mind trying to wrap around what he was telling her. And the woman was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn't notice the imp's close presence until his nose was practically touching hers.

"When you awake, go find him and say nothing about me. . . He will be the one to mention what has transpired here tonight. That way you will know what I've told you is true."

Emma couldn't find her voice, so she nodded to show that she understood.

At the sign of understanding, Rumpelstiltskin hesitantly leaned forward, and ever so slowly placed his lips on Emma's, giving her an affectionate and very chaste kiss. Much to Emma's surprise.

In all the years she had known him, Rumpelstiltskin had never given her more than a comforting hug. So the woman was absolutely blown away by the gentle and quite sudden gesture.

When Rumpelstiltskin pulled away, his animalistic eyes were shining with an unreadable emotion that made Emma's heart ache. But to her disappointment, the imp quickly shook it off and replaced it with his trademark smirk; tapping the tip of Emma's nose with his pointer finger playfully.

"Give Gold my best, Emma. . . Oh, and make sure that he keeps his hands to himself. . . I wouldn't want him making my lovely Swan Princess uncomfortable!"

* * *

Emma opened her eyes slowly, the sight of the leather clad man still replaying within her mind. And after several moments of deep contemplation the woman, though she was still somewhat groggy from sleep, got out of bed and began to dress for the day.

She pulled on her jeans with one swift motion, and then reached for her jacket to wear over her white tank top. She didn't bother to brush her hair or put on makeup. So she merely got dressed.

Emma's eyes locked on the alarm clock on her bedside table. It was almost 7 a.m, still quite early by most standards, but this only caused the woman pick up her pace. The Sheriff didn't care what time it was. She desperately needed to talk with Mr. Gold.

Emma slipped on her boots, and without further delay snuck out of her room and tiptoed to the apartment door, working hard not to catch Mary Margaret's attention. And once she was safely outside, the woman ran over to her parked yellow bug and got in. She made quick work of starting her engine and pulling out onto Storybrooke's Main road, and didn't look in her rear-view mirror once.

Emma drove towards Gold's Pawn Shop, with her heart in her throat and her hands shaking more than they ever had.

No matter what else happened today, she would finally get her answers. Emma Swan would finally know the truth about the man of her dreams.

* * *

Gold woke up the next morning with a smile on his face, and the worst hard-on he'd had in years. But he didn't mind. Not when he had finally gotten the ball rolling, and his Swan Princess was in place to fulfill her destiny.

It felt as if nothing could dampen his spirits. Though the man was slightly disappointed that he had awoken so soon. . .

* * *

_**Author's Note: **_

_**I am really enjoying writing the sexual tension between Emma and Rumpelstiltskin. ^^ It's just so bloody delicious! **_

_**Please let me know what you thought of the chapter, my dears! I always love to hear from you! Hugs and kisses to all! **_

**_~Lyn Harkeran_**


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